


dirty laundry looks good on you

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blind Date, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I suppose, M/M, Mental Illness, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Strangers to Lovers, detective!harry, harry has nightmares and louis was in an abusive relationship, not between louis and harry don't worry, teacher!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: “So um, Niall mentioned you haven’t lived here long. What brings you to London?”“What is this, an interview?” Louis smirks, stealing Harry’s drink and taking a sip. “Wanted a change of scenery. Dunno.”Harry hums and takes his drink back, narrowing his eyes playfully at Louis as he takes a long sip. “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather keep sharing mine?”“You most certainly can buy me a drink,” Louis grins, grabbing the bottle back out of Harry’s hand, “but I’m still going to be stealing yours.”Or, Harry is jaded and sad and resigned to be forever alone, until Niall sets him up with a friend of his whose broken pieces may just fit pretty well with Harry's.





	dirty laundry looks good on you

**Author's Note:**

> this one got heavy and deals with some pretty emotional and sensitive stuff so read at your own risk idk.
> 
> title is from Dirty Laundry by All Time Low

“It’s not you, though. It’s me.”

It’s not like Harry’s never heard the line before, but it still shocks him in all its cliche glory. _It’s not you_ , an endless stream of ex lovers’ voices chorus, _it’s your gloomy outlook on life and crippling depression._

“It’s okay, I understand,” he tells her, doing his best to not sound as rehearsed as he is. “I’m a lot to deal with.”

“You’re lovely,” she says, sounding as earnest as a liar can sound. She really is a sweet girl, this one. Her name is Kate; Harry’s been dating her about two weeks now. He sold her a car and she left her number on the back of the check, which of course made it invalid, which of course meant she then had to write a new check with blood red cheeks and an embarrassed grin. Harry had still called her, though, out of hopeful desperation.

“As are you,” Harry tells her, smiling tightly. It’s not a huge loss, really, he’s already sold her the car.

“We should keep in touch, you know, stay friends,” Kate says. She’s backing toward the door. “I’m really sorry this didn’t work out.”

“Shit happens,” Harry shrugs. Breaking up, losing a job, dying. Shit does happen.

“Well, you have my number if you ever want to, you know,” she trails off, looking as awkward as Harry feels.

“Got it,” Harry nods. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Kate gives him one last pink, glossy smile, and then lets herself out of his flat. Her hair bounces on the way out and Harry cocks his head, thinking it over. She was quite cute, a little too flat in conversation for his liking, but her hand was a nice size for his to hold and she always smelled sweet, like raspberries. Oh well, Harry thinks. Raspberries never were his favorite anyway.

Maybe he should emote more. That’s what his mother would say, at least. Maybe he should admit, even if just to himself, that he’s a little bit sad to see Kate go. Maybe he should admit to himself that he’s sad to have seen the last six girls go, and the three guys that came between them. It’s just that none of them quite understood him, none of them quite fit between the broken pieces inside of him. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that he’s just a shell housing the fractured pieces of the person he used to be, and once people crack open the pretty casing, they scoff at the shattered goods they find within.

Maybe he should stop musing sad poetry in his sitting room and do something with his life. 

He could go home for a bit, he supposes. Visit his mum, snuggle with his cat, mourn the death of his dignity in his childhood bed. Or he could stay here, away from his mum’s gentle yet constant questioning, _Why are you still single, love? Haven’t you found anyone good enough for you?_

That’s the thing, though, he thinks as he collapses on his sofa. The problem is not a matter of value. It’s a matter of Harry is fucked up and broken and can’t sleep through the night and anyone with half a brain would be wise to touch him with no less than a ten foot pole. He’s damaged beyond repair, and while he’d like to hope that doesn’t make him unworthy of love, he’s beginning to suspect it does.

He wasn’t always like this. He hasn’t even been like this for long. He’s only twenty-seven, surely much too young to be so jaded. His dream job let him down, though, turned his life into a nightmare. 

He’d wanted to be a detective since he was young. Back in school, watching all the cop shows and the kiddy cartoons, he always knew he wanted to solve mysteries, find criminals, be a hero. While most kids grew out of their childhood aspirations, he followed his through to university, and then into the real world. It took just five short years for the job to take its complete and devastating toll, and now he’s left with this.

He’s tried all the dating apps, the singles events around the city, tried blind dates with friends of friends and giving his number instead of his name at the coffee shop. It’s like he’s looked everywhere, but he still can’t find anyone with enough broken pieces to fill in the gaps between his own. 

Maybe he’ll just get a cat, he muses. A cat that’s as tired and grumpy as he is, but that won’t be able to leave him even if it wants to. Maybe then he’ll feel a sense of purpose again, taking care of something that would die without his attention.

He misses being a detective. After all, it was his dream, and it wasn’t always bad. Sometimes it was thrilling; the car chases, saving someone’s life, following a trail of clues to a criminal. It was too much, though, all the stuff that was actually bad. No matter how many films, books, training videos he consumed he still was just not cut out for the hard bits, like dead, naked bodies with their eyes frozen wide open, or hurt, bleeding children, crying the horrors that they endured.

Yeah, it was a little much. He spent too many a sleepless night, too many sleepless nights in a row, thinking about all the lives he couldn’t save, criminals he couldn’t catch in time, mysteries he could never solve. His partner and best friend, Liam, advised him to quit, and since then, he’s been selling cars in downtown London and wishing one of his clients might just run him over by accident.

It’s not that he hates selling cars. It’s just that he really, really _fucking_ hates selling cars. His life used to be so important and meaningful when he was a detective. He had a purpose, and a really fucking good one, at that. Now he just memorizes key features of cars he’ll never be able to afford and rattles them off to middle aged couples looking to trade in their shitty old minivan for something mid-life-crisis-worthy. He just feels like he could do better, is all, like he’s already done better and now he’s going backwards.

At the end of the day, he supposes, he still has all his limbs, has a roof over his head and food in his fridge. He supposes he can’t get much luckier than this.

With that he picks himself up off the sofa and drags himself to bed, instead, where it’s comfier and hopefully warmer. He’s got a hot date with his duvet burrito for the rest of the night, and he’s keen on getting a head start.

-

It’s not exactly late when his phone starts ringing, but it’s late enough that Harry’s already been asleep for a couple of hours. Granted, he went to bed at around 6pm, but nobody has any right to be calling at 10:30 at night.

“‘Lo?” he answers, groggy and uninterested.

“Harry!” a voice cheers, too loud for Harry’s tired brain. “Were you sleeping?”

“Yes,” Harry mutters, rolling onto his back with a sigh. “What’s up, Niall?”

“So, listen, are you still seeing that girl, um, Susie, was it?”

Harry groans a little, shaking his head. “Susie dumped me three weeks ago.”

“But you had a date last weekend,” Niall says. Harry can hear him frowning.

“That was Kate,” Harry says.

“Oh, so you’re still seeing her, then?”

“Didn’t say that,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, Harry. Talking to you is worse than a brick wall. At least the wall just won’t answer, instead of talking me in bloody fucking circles,” Niall complains.

“Kate dumped me earlier today,” Harry says, instead of acknowledging any of Niall’s woes. He’s right, after all. “Why?”

“Sorry to hear that,” Niall says. “But listen, I’ve got this friend here in London. He’s quite new in town, only been here a few months, but I think you should meet him. I think you’d really like him.”

“Sorry to tell you this, Niall, but I’ve sworn off dating,” Harry says. “‘M just gonna get a cat, or something. Something that won’t be able to leave me.”

“Cats have legs, you’d be better off with a fish, or the like, something that can’t get away,” Niall says. “But seriously, just text him. I really think you’d be perfect together.”

Harry sighs long and hard and then rolls his eyes again. “Alright, I suppose I have one more rejection left in me. What’s he like?”

“Super bubbly,” Niall says. “He’s always happy, and loud, and a ton of fun. It’s impossible to not have a good time when he’s around,” he gushes. “He can cheer up anyone, even depressive sacks of shit like yourself.”

“No offense, Niall, but that sounds like my own personal hell,” Harry winces.

“Full offense, Harry, mate, but you’re miserable to be around,” Niall fires right back. “Just go out with him once, please?”

“Ugh, fine,” Harry groans, putting Niall on speaker and opening up a new contact. “What’s his number?”

Niall rattles it off and Harry saves it in his phone, taking Niall off speaker and holding the phone back to his ear. “You’re gonna love him, I know it,” Niall is saying, sounding like he’s grinning one of his signature wide Niall grins.

“Sure,” Harry yawns. “I’ll text him in the morning, yeah?”

“Alright, fucker, get some sleep,” Niall says. “Absolute lazy oaf,” he mutters under his breath.

“Fuck you,” Harry says sweetly, hanging up the phone before Niall can get another word in. He switches it on silent and rolls over, getting himself all wrapped up and cozy in his duvet again. He’s asleep again within minutes, and by the time he wakes up the next morning, he forgets all about texting Niall’s friend.

-

Naturally, it takes another week for Harry to actually get around to texting Niall’s friend. Niall reminds him every day without fail, but somehow, it slips Harry’s mind every time. It takes him until Thursday evening to finally settle down on the sofa and type out a text to the newest contact in his phone. 

_Harry: Hello! This is Harry, Niall’s friend. Apparently Niall isn’t going to sleep until I take you on a date, so to save him any further anguish, when are you free? :)_

He only has to wait a few moments for a reply. He’s just heading to the kitchen to get started on his dinner when his phone chimes on the sofa, and he shuffles back over to read it.

_Louis: hello harry i’m louis !! i’m free tomorrow night meet me at the pub near niall’s ?_

Harry knows the pub. It’s Niall’s favorite, right around the corner from his flat. Louis, whose name Harry realizes he didn’t know until now, must have known that Harry would know the pub if he knows Niall. It’s an easy meeting point, easier than trying to come up with a place on his own.

_Harry: Perfect! I’ll meet you there at 7?_

_Louis: works for me ! :)_

Harry can’t help but smile a little. He does quite like going on dates, even if he’s never even seen this person before. He drops his phone back onto the sofa and heads back to the kitchen to boil some pasta, humming quietly to himself. 

Maybe Niall will end up being right. Maybe this date will go well, and Harry won’t have to be so sad all the time anymore. Or maybe it’ll go horribly like every other date he’s been on recently and he’ll have to leave the city and go back home to his mum’s house and resign to the life of the failure he’ll inevitably become. Fucking hell, he really does need to cheer up.

He eats his pasta on the sofa and falls asleep soon after, all thoughts of his date pushed out of his head until tomorrow.

\---

It’s 7:30 and Harry is at a table alone, nursing the same drink he ordered when he got here and waving off the sympathetic looking waitress yet again. This Louis guy is either running late or he just isn’t coming, Harry can’t tell which, but either way Harry is getting seriously annoyed. Harry’s been stood up before, so it’s not like he’s new to this game, telling the waitress for the third time that his date is just running late, missed the tube, stuck in a taxi.

Louis doesn’t show up until another ten minutes later, slightly out of breath but otherwise full of life. He’s quite pretty, Harry notices, before he even realizes Louis is heading to his table.

“Hi. Harry, right?” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Louis. I’m so sorry I’m late, my little sister called with a crisis and delayed me leaving my flat.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Harry blinks, already overwhelmed by how fast and loud Louis speaks, how bouncy and full of energy he seems. _And he pronounces his name like Louie instead of Lewis_ , he thinks, _how_ pretentious. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Louis grins, plopping down into the booth across from him. “She’s fighting with my other sister, her twin. Dunno why she called me of all people to settle it, seeing as I’m ages from home, but she’s sweet,” he rambles.

“How old is she?” Harry asks, tempted to keep Louis talking. If Louis talks, that means Harry doesn’t have to, and in his experience, that’s usually a good thing.

“Just turned thirteen,” Louis says. “And her twin, as well, who she was arguing with. There’s also the older girls, Lottie and Fizzy, or Felicite, as she’s started going by. They’re eighteen and sixteen, and then there’s Ernest and Doris, who are both just three. They’re twins, as well,” he explains.

“Wow, massive family,” Harry chuckles, sipping at his drink. “Your mum must be busy?”

Louis smiles sadly, his frantic energy calming a bit, finally. “She was, yeah,” he says softly. “She passed away last December.”

“Oh, sorry,” Harry frowns, his heart sinking. Great, two minutes into the date and he’s already brought up the guy’s dead mother. “Um, that’s- that’s shit.”

“Yeah, it is,” Louis shrugs. “Let’s not talk about that, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry says immediately, grateful for the rescue line Louis is throwing. “So um, Niall mentioned you haven’t lived here long. What brings you to London?”

“What is this, an interview?” Louis smirks, stealing Harry’s drink and taking a sip. “Wanted a change of scenery. Dunno.”

Harry hums and takes his drink back, narrowing his eyes playfully at Louis as he takes a long sip. “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather keep sharing mine?”

“You most certainly can buy me a drink,” Louis grins, grabbing the bottle back out of Harry’s hand, “but I’m still going to be stealing yours.”

Harry just smiles and lets him keep it, somewhat fascinated by the way his lips curl around it when he takes a sip, the way his throat moves when he swallows. He’s actually quite gorgeous; Harry is going to owe Niall a few favors after this.

“So tell me about you, then,” Louis says, once Harry has ordered two new drinks for the both of them.

“Uh, I’m Harry,” Harry says. “I dunno. I sell cars?”

“You sell cars,” Louis says, deadpan. Harry blinks.

“Uh, yeah. I’m kind of between careers, so, yeah,” he mutters.

“Right,” Louis hums. “So you’re a bit of a loser, then?”

Harry chokes on his drink, frowning at Louis. “The fuck?”

“You sell cars,” Louis shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Can’t get much lower than that, can you?”

Harry bristles. He thought this was going quite well and now, shitting fuck, the guy’s a dick. “It’s only until I can find something better,” he argues. Louis just hums. “What do you do then, Princess?”

Louis grins, like Harry’s insult is just playful banter. Fuck, is it? “I teach music to children,” he says, glancing up at Harry through his eyelashes, daring him to make a comment.

“So you’re a loser as well, then,” Harry chuckles. “Good to know.”

Louis scoffs, straightening up. Harry fears for half a second that he misread Louis, wasn’t supposed to keep up with the banter, but he sees a playful glint in his eye. “I’ll have you know that music education is extremely important to a child’s development,” he says, indignant.

“Is it?” Harry hums, sipping at his drink. 

“It is,” Louis says. “Learning music is just as important as math or science; actually, it could probably be considered a type of math or science. It takes years of practice, of both performing and observing, as well as forming an entirely different part of the brain. Even Aristotle valued music education, did you know? He wrote, like, a whole book about how important music is and how it makes free people and happy adults and stuff like that. He said it was just as important as anything else we teach children in school, and I agree with him. Schools everywhere keep cutting funding for music programs, and they wonder why depression rates keep climbing. Look at you, I’ll bet you never had a music class in your life, did you?”

It’s Harry’s turn to scoff now, blinking at Louis. “I had a fair few music lessons, I think. I was in a band in college,” he argues.

“Like, a real band, or a rock band?” Louis asks, looking amused.

Harry has to admit, he’s strangely attracted to Louis, even when Louis is being a little shit. He’s just as pretentious as Harry thought, quoting Aristotle on the first date. 

“It was a rock band,” Harry says. “We were called White Eskimo.”

“White Eskimo,” Louis says, pulling a face. “Uh, good name.”

“Fuck off,” Harry laughs, rolling his eyes as he takes a long sip of his drink. “You’re quite pretentious, aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Louis laughs in return, crumpling up his napkin and tossing it at Harry’s head. 

They only end up having a few drinks before Louis gets bored, and Harry suggests they go for a walk. It’s nearly summer, and it’s quite warm out tonight, so they’re both quite comfortable in their light jackets as they step out of the pub and onto the pavement.

They talk about nothing and everything, and while Harry feels like he already knows Louis quite well, he also gets the impression that there’s a lot Louis is hiding behind his humor and wit. Not that Harry’s any different; he’s been avoiding every mention of the past like the plague, telling Louis about his parents and sister and not much else. They mostly just bicker like old friends, and it’s nice, really nice.

“This seems like we’re gonna get mugged, probably,” Louis says, huddling into Harry’s side a little. They’ve found a park a few blocks away from the pub and they’re wandering aimlessly through it, even though it’s nearing 11pm and they’re both just a little tipsy.

“I’ll protect you,” Harry grins, wrapping his arm around Louis’s shoulders and pulling him close, caging him in as if keeping him safe. He’s quite happy with his little move; he’s been waiting all night to hold Louis’s hand or put an arm around him or something, which is rather unusual. Harry’s never found himself quite this drawn to a date before.

“Big and strong, are you?” Louis chuckles, patting Harry’s chest. Harry puffs up slightly, and Louis giggles into his shoulder. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly, I can tell.”

“Oi,” Harry pouts, ruining his manly facade. “I could take you, pixie,” he threatens.

“Oh, is that so?” Louis hums, leaning a little more into Harry’s side and gazing up at him.

“Yeah, I reckon,” Harry says, bumping Louis’s hip with his own.

Louis just laughs, shaking his head and looking down. Harry, feeling playful and brave, decides to rile him up a little dropping his arm suddenly and making to lunge at Louis, like he’s going to tackle him.

Louis flinches, reflexively throwing both arms up, covering his face. He cowers back and turns away, squeaking in terror, shaking just a bit.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, regaining his balance and assessing the situation. Louis is recovering but he’s still shaken, hiding his face in his hands and keeping his back to Harry. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Louis says quickly, too quickly. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says again, like he’s convincing himself as well, slowly forcing himself to look back up at Harry.

It’s obviously not fine, but Louis sniffs and pretends like nothing happened, so Harry follows along, albeit hesitantly. Well, Harry thinks, maybe Louis is carrying just as much baggage as he is. Louis keeps flinching now every time Harry so much as breathes and Harry feels like absolute shit, but it’s comforting in a weird way to know that Louis is a little fucked up too. Harry almost wants to tell him that sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night from his crippling nightmares, but he doesn’t want to scare him away completely.

He walks Louis home without even really meaning to, until Louis stops in front of a door and says, so quietly Harry almost misses it, “this is me.”

“Oh, alright,” Harry says, giving Louis a little smile. “Um, listen, I’m really sorry about what-”

“No, God, please don’t be sorry,” Louis says, putting his hand gently over Harry’s chest. “ _I’m_ sorry, really. It’s not your fault at all, I’m just a bit jumpy,” he assures.

“Right,” Harry nods. He’s skeptical, but he doesn’t want to push any boundaries. “Um, can I call you again sometime?”

Louis blushes a little, grinning at Harry. “Really? You still wanna take me out after that little freak show?”

“I reckon I could out-freak you,” Harry grins back, shrugging one shoulder. 

“No way,” Louis laughs.

“Try me,” Harry challenges playfully.

“Alright, maybe I will,” Louis hums, poking his finger into Harry’s chest before letting his hand fall away. “This was fun.”

“It was,” Harry agrees. “So I can text you soon, then?”

“Not if I text you first,” Louis giggles, backing toward his door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Louis,” Harry says, watching him for a moment. Louis hesitates and then steps forward, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry hugs him back, holding his smaller frame for just a moment, and then Louis pulls away with a blush and a tiny, adorable smile.

“I’ll see you later, then,” Louis says softly, giving Harry one last long look before turning and letting himself into his apartment.

Harry stands on the doorstep for a moment after Louis has gone inside, considering. He’s happy, actually happy, for the first time in what feels like a very, very long time. He grins as he finally turns away, hopping down the step and back onto the pavement. He walks all the way home still smiling, excited for the first time in what is _definitely_ a long time to get to know someone new.

\---

_Harry: I mean it already kind of is the next big thing, if you listen to the radio, but that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it!_

It’s a thread of conversation they’ve been having in short bursts throughout the week, whenever either of them has a free minute to send a text. It’s been a long, long while since Harry’s been this excited to be in such constant contact with another person, but every time his phone lights up with another message from Louis, it’s like he’s a teenager again.

_Louis: how do you not enjoy edm every song is a bop_

_Harry: Well it’s fun when you’re clubbing, but not so much when you’re in the car trying to have a relaxing drive._

_Louis: well maybe we should go clubbing together then_

_Louis: i’d actually love to see your stiff arse in a club !_

_Harry: What’s that supposed to mean!? :(_

_Louis: it means ur cute and i wanna dance with you idiot just say yes_

Harry grins, leaning his elbows on the front desk while he reads over Louis’s message. He’s at work, should probably be wandering around and asking customers if they need any help or want to listen to him rattle off the facts he’s memorized about the cars in the showroom today, but he can’t be bothered.

_Harry: Well, lucky for you, I’m free Friday night._

_Louis: lucky for you i’m free as well ;p_

_Louis: *:p_

_Harry: Did you just send me a winky face?? ;p_

_Louis: by accident ! fuck off_

_Harry: Sure ;p Pick a place, I’ll pick you up at 8._

_Louis: :D_

Harry chuckles and slips his phone into his back pocket, before his boss can come over and yell at him for being lazy. He shuffles around the showroom for a bit, picking out his outfit for Friday night in his head, until eventually a middle aged couple comes meandering in, looking at the shiny red sports car in the center of the showroom. Harry puts on his most pleasant face and walks over to greet them, letting the anticipation of getting to see Louis again this weekend get him through the rest of his day.

-

It’s not a long walk from Harry’s flat to Louis’s but he still gives himself about 15 minutes when he leaves to get there on time. He has a feeling Louis is going to tease him whether he’s early, late, or right on time. He can’t wait.

Louis is waiting outside when Harry gets there, even though it’s still about five minutes to eight. Louis greets him with a blinding smile and a hug, both of which Harry returns easily.

“Hi,” Louis says, when he pulls away. “Don’t look so smug, I’m only waiting outside to be sure you remembered where I live.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees easily, but he doesn’t wipe the smug smile off his face. “You look lovely.”

“Bugger off,” Louis laughs, looping his arm through Harry’s and setting off down the pavement, leading Harry without a hint as to where they’re going. “We’re going clubbing, not to prom, I don’t need the niceties.”

“I can’t tell you that you look nice?” Harry scoffs, looking over at him.

“Too formal,” Louis sniffs, shaking his head.

“Well, should I tell you that your arse looks absolutely fantastic in those jeans, then?” Harry says. 

Louis laughs, loud and surprised. “If you could find a happy medium, that would be great.”

Harry rolls his eyes and slips his hand into Louis’s, watching out of the corner of his eye to catch Louis’s reaction. Louis bites his lip to tamp down his grin and watches his feet for a moment, until he regains his composure.

“So where are we going?” Harry asks, swinging their hands between them. “For all I know you’re leading me to a dark alley to murder me.”

“Fuck,” Louis says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. Harry’s worried he’s set him off again, turning quickly to look at him.

“What?” he asks, trying to read his expression.

“You’ve foiled my plan,” Louis says, a smile breaking through on his face. Harry relaxes, laughing brightly.

“You’re a wanker,” he mumbles, tugging him along down the pavement.

“I’m serious,” Louis says. “Now I’ll have to kill you right here, right now, before anyone can hear you scream. Where shall I hide your body, though?”

Harry laughs flatly, his smile falling a bit. Not that Louis would ever know, but the joke hits a bit too close to home. Louis doesn’t seem to catch on, though, still giggling to himself.

“Maybe I’ll have to cut you up and keep you in my freezer. The cops wouldn’t expect that, would they?” Louis muses. “I could-”

Harry squeezes his hand probably a little too hard, staring resolutely at the pavement. Louis cuts off, the smile dropping from his face.

“Woah, sorry,” he says quickly, earnestly. “That was- I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” Harry says, voice low. He doesn’t offer any further explanation, but Louis doesn’t seem to require one.

“The club is around the corner,” Louis says. “It’s my favorite one in town.”

They recover by the time they get to the club. Harry is relieved by how easily conversation flows between the two of them even when things are a bit uncomfortable, like they just were. Louis just keeps making jokes until he has Harry laughing again, and all uneasiness is forgotten by the time they pay their entrance and find themselves in the pulsing crowd inside the club.

It’s packed, well and truly, even though it’s not even late yet. There are people everywhere Harry turns, dancing and drinking and having fun, and Louis pulls him immediately to the bar. 

Louis buys them both a couple of shots, which Harry accepts without question. Louis seems to be totally in control tonight and Harry is more than happy to let him lead, since clubs have never really been his scene. Louis seems at home, though, downing shot after shot and laughing at nothing, pressed close against Harry’s side because there’s no other place for him to be.

Once they both have a few shots in them, Louis leads them out onto the dance floor, deep into the middle of the crowd. Harry curls himself protectively around Louis instinctively, making sure that, for one thing, Louis doesn’t get lost, and also that he doesn’t get hurt.

Louis finds a smidgen of space near the middle and parks himself, letting Harry crash into his back. Harry is about to back off and apologize when Louis grins at him over his shoulder, grabbing his hands to pull him back in so his front is flush against Louis’s back.

Louis starts dancing just like that, pressed all up against Harry in a way that Harry knows he isn’t going to be able to deal with long. Regardless, though, he wraps his arms around Louis’s waist and moves with him, unable to stop the sway of his body with the crowd.

It’s effortless, the way Louis’s body moves. He’s so graceful, so sexy; everything Harry is not. Harry is awkward, moves in jerky, short pulses, the opposite of Louis’s fluid grinding. Louis just leans back into his chest and laughs and Harry works a little harder, trying to match the pace of his hips to Louis’s.

Eventually they click, and Louis hums into his ear. Harry hooks his chin over Louis’s shoulder and holds their hips flush together, fingers tight on Louis’s waist. Louis melts, lets Harry guide, but he’s pushing back something fierce, his bum pressed firmly into the cradle of Harry’s crotch. Harry’s doing his best to enjoy the moment, to not think about what comes next, not think about what’s gonna happen when they leave the club. He’s absolutely sure that this isn’t as far as he’s going to get with Louis tonight, and his heart is already picking up in anticipation.

Louis seems to be testing his limits, seeing just obscene he can get before people start staring. People are already staring, though, probably would be even if Louis didn’t look like he was getting fucked right in the middle of the dance floor. He’s so fucking gorgeous, even when he’s not moving like this, he’s lucky people aren’t staring every time he so much as breathes. Harry holds him a little tighter, protective, possessive, grinding his hips against him and watching the side of his face, enamoured with the flutter of Louis’s eyelashes and the hint of a playful smile on his lips.

They migrate, somehow, mostly unconsciously, until they’re on the outskirts of the floor again. Harry is just counting himself down to lean in and start kissing down Louis’s neck when Louis twirls around, draping his arms over Harry’s neck and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“I want more drinks,” he hums, still swaying just slightly with the music. Harry nods blindly, reaching for his hand, tugging him along to the bar.

He buys the drinks this time, since Louis seems too busy rubbing himself up against Harry’s body. He gets them a couple of mixed drinks and then rests his back against the bar, letting Louis fit his body against his front.

“Having fun?” he asks, grinning at the lazy, pleased smile on Louis’s face.

“You’re a terrible dancer,” Louis says, resting his chin on Harry’s chest. “Truly awful.”

“Well, you’re good enough for the both of us, I think,” Harry shrugs.

Louis laughs, his cheeks pinking slightly. “You flatter me,” he mumbles, turning his head to rest his cheek against Harry’s chest now. If Harry didn’t know better, he would think Louis was wasted. Maybe he’s just a lightweight. 

The bartender hands their drinks over the bar and Harry passes one on to Louis, who doesn’t even look before taking a sip. Harry watches him while he sips at his own drink, fascinated by the way Louis’s throat looks when he swallows.

Louis finishes his drink in no time and tugs Harry back to the dance floor, like he can’t decide what he wants to do. Harry doesn’t mind, though, follows after him obediently, pulling him back into the same position they were in earlier and focusing on the way his body moves, wanting to impress Louis this time.

Louis gets even more into it this time, grinding back against Harry like no one can see them. Harry doesn’t even try to keep it from affecting him this time, watching Louis’s body move as the smaller boy loses himself in the beat of the music pumping through the room.

Harry can feel the bass in his veins, can feel the vibrations of the music in his throat, can feel Louis absolutely everywhere. He’s got enough alcohol in him to slow him down a little, but he holds Louis as tight as he can, like if he lets go Louis might just dance away from him. He finds himself wanting to put his mouth on Louis’s body again, eyeing the soft, sweat damp patch of skin between Louis’s neck and shoulder. He counts himself down, trying to inch in for it, not wanting to spook Louis or make him nervous. He breathes down Louis’s neck and Louis shivers, pressing back into him and giving Harry all the invitation he needs to finally close the gap, his lips pressing hot against Louis’s skin and sucking gently.

Louis makes a little noise that vibrates through Harry’s entire body, somehow much more forcefully than the music could ever hope to affect him. He sucks a little harder and then kisses down Louis’s shoulder, over his shirt, letting his hand slide around to Louis’s tummy, holding him firm, trapped against Harry’s body.

Harry pulls his lips away from Louis’s skin and grinds his hips forward once more, not entirely shocked to find that he’s half hard in his jeans. If Louis notices, he doesn’t let on, eyes fluttering open and surveying the crowd around them as he starts moving his hips again, picking up where he left off when Harry started kissing him.

Harry’s just leaning in again to suck a real mark into Louis’s neck when Louis whirls around, eyes wide in the dim lighting of the club. He looks spooked, but not because of Harry, he can tell. He looks worried, like something happened, and Harry looks up over his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Louis says, shouting so Harry can hear him over the music. “Can we go back to yours?”

“What?” Harry shouts back, confused at the sudden change in events. “Why?”

“I wanna go back to yours,” Louis says, resting his hand over Harry’s chest and letting it wander slowly down his sternum, and then over his lower stomach. “Please?”

“Oh,” Harry smirks, Louis’s worried expression from a moment ago slipping his mind altogether. “Yeah, alright.”

Louis leads the way, grabbing Harry’s hand and tugging him through the crowd. They’re back out on the pavement in no time, fingers still laced together, and Louis doesn’t stop tugging him along.

“Not a race, love,” Harry chuckles, pulling Louis’s hand to get him to slow down. “Hey, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Louis turns back and smiles, finally slowing down and allowing Harry to catch up. “Sorry,” he laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Dunno. Just wanted to get out of there, I guess.”

“I understand,” Harry says knowingly, dropping Louis’s hand and sliding his own hand around Louis’s waist, holding his hip. “My place?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles, leaning into him, letting Harry guide him in the direction of his flat.

It’s cool out now, past midnight, but Louis is hot and solid and small under his arm. Harry can’t fucking wait to get him home, to find out what he tastes like, what he feels like, what he sounds like when Harry-

Jesus, he’s getting ahead of himself. They’re not even halfway home and Harry’s dick is threatening almost half-mast, desperate to be alone with Louis in Harry’s bedroom. Louis slips his hand into the back pocket of Harry’s jeans and Harry quickens his pace, all but dragging Louis along with him.

It doesn’t take long to get back to Harry’s flat, and by the time they get there, he’s cooled down a bit, enough to not jump Louis’s bones once they get in the door, and Louis has gone all soft and cuddly against his side.

Harry unlocks the door and Louis sticks close by him, staying in constant contact, not moving away for a second. He smiles when Harry looks down at him, kicking the door shut behind them.

“So, um,” Harry mutters, grabbing Louis by the belt loops on his jeans and pulling him flush against his front, smiling his most seductive smile. “Wanna go to the bedroom?”

Louis blinks, giving a little smile in return and pulling away a fraction of an inch. “What kind of boy do you take me for, Styles?” he jokes, but he’s nervous, Harry can tell.

“I take you for the kind of boy that was all but fucking himself on my dick in the middle of the club,” Harry says, raising a playful eyebrow.

Louis blushes, laughing nervously. “I’m sorry,” he says, taking another step back. He scratches at the back of his neck, not looking Harry right in the eye. “I think- um, I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

“Oh,” Harry says, frowning slightly. Louis looks mortified, and Harry hates it. “I’m sorry, I guess I assumed. But, that’s alright.” Louis frowns, so Harry smiles gently. “I don’t need to have sex, I’m not an animal,” he shrugs.

Louis looks shocked, looking up at him. “Are you serious?” he asks. His voice is all soft and shy and guarded, and Harry wants loud, funny, bright Louis back as soon as possible.

“Of course,” he chuckles. “Do you wanna watch a film, or something? Or make some frozen pizza?” he suggests.

Louis looks genuinely surprised, but pleasantly so, and it takes him a minute to nod. “Um, yeah,” he says, smiling slowly. “Yeah, both, please.”

Harry grins, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. Louis follows after him and Harry pulls a frozen pizza out of the freezer, tearing the box open.

“Here,” he hums, handing it over to Louis. “Unwrap this, and I’m gonna set the oven.”

Louis takes the pizza from him and gets to work tearing away the plastic cling film over it, but by the time Harry has turned on the oven and gotten out the cooking sheet, Louis has made an absolute mess.

He somehow knocked bits of frozen cheese all over the place, and the plastic is clinging to his hand and stuck to his shirt as well, and as hard as he tries to get it off, he’s a little too drunk and a little too useless.

Harry bursts out laughing, startling Louis from where he’s still trying to shake the plastic off his hand. Louis starts laughing as well and soon enough they’re both breathless, gasping and cackling as the plastic finally falls to the floor.

Harry regains enough of his composure to get the pizza out of Louis’s hands and put it on the cooking sheet and into the oven, and when he’s done Louis comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and laughing into his spine. Harry turns around in his arms and holds him in return, resting his chin on top of his head. “Go pick out a DVD,” he chuckles, enamoured by Louis’s continued giggling. “I wanna go get out of these jeans.”

“Can I borrow some joggers, or something?” Louis asks, untangling himself from Harry’s arms. “I wanna be comfy, too.”

“Of course,” Harry grins, pulling Louis to his bedroom. He rifles through his wardrobe and tosses Louis a pair of loose joggers, and then finds himself a pair, as well. “The bathroom is the second door on the left,” he says.

Louis excuses himself quietly to the bathroom, dragging the joggers along on the floor behind him. Harry watches him go and then changes quickly, dropping his jeans in the hamper and pulling on his sweatpants. His dick has mostly gotten the hint to calm down, which is good, because Harry does not want to make Louis any more uncomfortable than he already has tonight. 

He finds Louis in the den when he’s finished changing, sitting in front of Harry’s shelf of DVDs and searching through them. Harry hangs back and watches him for a moment, until finally Louis stands up with the winner in his hand.

“What have we chosen, then?” Harry hums, rounding the sofa while Louis puts the disc in the DVD player.

“Footloose, obviously,” Louis says. “But only because I couldn’t find Grease.”

Harry laughs, plopping down on the sofa and opening his arms to invite Louis into a cuddle. Louis accepts immediately, curling up against his side with his head on Harry’s shoulder. The timer on the oven goes off about ten minutes into the movie and Harry gets up to go retrieve the pizza, and when he comes back Louis has wrapped himself in a blanket, looking tiny and cuddly and like everything Harry has been waiting for.

They settle in with the pizza on a plate balanced on Harry’s lap, picking at it slowly. Harry nearly falls asleep more than a couple of times, but with Louis’s constant stream of commentary, it’s impossible.

“Can’t believe you don’t have Grease on DVD,” Louis says, forcing one cold foot under Harry’s leg. “It’s clearly the superior musical.”

“I’m more of a Rent guy, myself,” Harry says. 

“You would be,” Louis snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry frowns, looking down at him.

“You’re the tragic romantic type,” Louis says, looking back up at him. “I can tell.” Harry pulls a face, and Louis pecks a kiss to his chin before elaborating. “You’re brooding and mysterious, but when you warm up you’re lovely and smiley and I have the feeling you don’t open up easily, but somehow I still feel like I already know you.”

Harry blinks, watching his face for a moment. “Well, maybe we’re meant to be together,” he says quietly, honestly.

Louis almost looks like he’s going to continue the tender moment, but of course, he doesn’t. “Did you just quote Shakira at me?” he says instead.

“What?” Harry squawks, shaking his head. “Hardly.”

Louis turns his nose up, giving Harry a look. “I think you should kiss me now to make up for it,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Make up for what?” Harry laughs, his stomach tightening with the promise of getting to kiss Louis.

“Your bad taste in musicals, and romance,” Louis says. “And your lame Shakira reference.”

“It literally wasn’t a Shakira reference!” Harry argues, but when he looks down, Louis looks so soft and sweet and fond, Harry can’t resist him another moment. He leans in and kisses him square on the lips, and Louis reacts immediately. 

He melts into the kiss, hands on Harry’s chest, breath warm on Harry’s tongue. Harry gets his arms all the way around him and holds him close, pulls him in, keeps him solid against his chest.

It goes on for longer than a first kiss has any right to. It gets dirtier and dirtier, as well, until Harry is sure for the second time tonight that he’s going to end up in bed with Louis sooner rather than later.

He lets himself get lost in it, doesn’t hear the film end or the menu screen playing over and over again. Louis is eating it up, as well, letting these soft little sounds loose into Harry’s mouth, driving him absolutely crazy. Louis’s got all of his senses under his control to the point that Harry doesn’t notice his own hand moving, traveling down Louis’s spine and cupping his arse.

Louis pulls away with a gasp, shaking his head. “Stop, please,” he says quickly, shoving Harry’s hand away from his bum and sitting down hard.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry pants, trying to catch his breath and wrap his brain around the sudden change of events. “Sorry, I got caught up.”

Louis doesn’t look right at him, shifts away from him just a bit and hugs his arms around himself. Harry watches him for a moment, feeling sick, wondering why Louis keeps sending these mixed signals. A second ago Louis was kissing him like he never wanted to stop, and now he’s acting like Harry just murdered his kitten.

 _Okay, so, no sex stuff at all_ , Harry notes, looking down at his knees. They’re quiet for a moment, and finally Harry becomes aware of the menu screen repeating on the TV. He doesn’t want to move, though, doesn’t want to spook Louis again, so he just lets it play.

When he finally gathers the courage to look over, he feels even worse. Louis looks tortured, like he’s trying to decide something, bouncing his knee nervously. Harry watches him for a minute and then looks down, rubbing his palms over his thighs.

“There’s a 24 hour corner store on the next block,” he says. Louis jumps at the sound of his voice, but he finally meets his eyes. “Wanna go see if they have Grease on DVD?”

Louis blinks at him and then laughs, the tension melting out of his body. “Yeah, alright,” he smiles, following Harry’s lead and standing up from the sofa, setting off to find his shoes.

Louis is back to his normal, bubbly self before they’re even out the door, and he lets Harry hold his hand all the way to the corner store. Harry can’t help but wonder exactly what kind of emotional baggage this boy is harboring. He has very specific things that set him off, but sometimes things that Harry expects to set him off don’t, and things that he doesn’t expect to set him off do. It’s all very confusing and Harry cannot figure him out no matter how hard he tries, and though it should probably scare him, it doesn’t.

At the end of the day, Harry probably has just as much baggage, if not more. He’s really in no position to judge Louis for anything, nor should he be trying to figure out what’s wrong with Louis. There’s nothing wrong with him, anyway, he’s absolutely perfect, at least in Harry’s eyes. He’s got some issues, sure, but that’s okay, because so does Harry. He knows there’s probably no fixing either of them, not that there’s anything to be fixed anyway; Harry just wants to be able to understand Louis’s brain, know what it is that upsets him and how he can avoid upsetting him as often as possible. He just hopes Louis sticks around long enough to give him the chance to do so, and so Harry can give him the chance to do the same.

The DVD section of the store is quite lacking, seeing as how it’s really only one rack near the registers. They don’t have Grease or really anything higher than a B-list film, and when Harry turns around to tell Louis he’s had no luck, Louis is nowhere to be seen.

He finds him at the freezer section of the store, perusing the ice cream. “I couldn’t find Grease,” Harry tells him, shrugging when Louis looks up at him.

“Yeah, I didn’t think they would have it,” Louis shrugs back. “Thoughts on getting ice cream?”

“I approve,” Harry hums, peering over Louis’s shoulder into the freezer. “Do they have any cookie dough?”

“Here,” Louis mutters, sliding open the door and handing him back a pint of it. “Do you see any mint chocolate chip?”

It takes a minute, but Harry finds it on the top shelf, teasing Louis for only a minute about being able to reach it before he gets it down for him.

He pays for both of the cartons at the counter, and then makes Louis carry the bag home. He’s sure to hold Louis’s free hand in his own, though, just because he doesn’t want to stop touching him. 

They spend the rest of the night in Harry’s bed, eating ice cream and feeding each other bits off of their spoons. Louis falls asleep lengthwise across the bed and Harry takes the carton of ice cream from him before he can drop it on the floor, bringing both cartons to the kitchen to stick them in the freezer. When he comes back he wraps Louis up like a burrito in his duvet, making sure every part of him is covered and warm, and then turns out the lights and creeps out of the room. He sets up camp on the sofa to give Louis some space in case he’s not comfortable sharing a bed with Harry, and despite how uncomfortable sleeping on the sofa is, he’s out cold in a matter of minutes.

\---

Days turn into weekends and weekends into weeks, and somehow, Louis and Harry just work. Harry’s never had a relationship go quite this smoothly, be quite this easy, but when he’s with Louis, he feels like a new person. Sure, they both have their bumps and bruises and stories, none of which they’re quite ready to share, but things are good.

Louis sleeps over just about every weekend, which is lovely. They’ve even progressed to sleeping together tangled up in Harry’s bed, though Louis still hasn’t let him touch below the belt. There’s something about it that freaks Louis out, and Harry’s yet to find out what it is, but he can wait. After all, he really doesn’t need sex to be happy in a relationship, and Louis makes him happy enough even without it.

It’s Saturday morning and Harry wakes up with an armful of sleeping Louis, all spread out on top of him under the blankets. He gets cold quite easily, Harry’s noticed, and because Harry’s a walking furnace, Louis takes full advantage of their cuddles.

Harry carefully slips out from under Louis’s sleeping body and rolls out of bed, shuffling off to the kitchen. He’s yet to have a nightmare in front of Louis, which is a miracle, if he’s honest. Maybe Louis is a good security blanket; with him there, Harry has nothing to fear.

He fishes through the fridge and digs out the eggs, clicking his tongue when he finds there’s only two left. He’ll have to pick up some more when he and Louis go to the market today. He smiles at the thought and cracks the eggs into a frying pan, setting them on the stove to start cooking while he composes a list in his head.

More beer, some snacks, and some sausages to make for dinner. He supposes he should buy some paper plates, as well, because it’s lad’s night tonight and he knows he’s not going to be arsed to clear anything up after. 

It’s the first lad’s night that Harry’s hosting with Louis around, but he’s excited for it. It’s just Niall and Harry’s friend Nick, and maybe some other people, if Niall’s feeling particularly generous with the invitations. He usually is, especially when he’s not hosting. Louis is excited, as well, even suggested he sleep over the night before so he could help Harry get ready the next day, like they were hosting a full on house party and not a bunch of guys getting drunk and playing video games in Harry’s cramped living room.

The smell of the eggs cooking draws Louis out of the bedroom just as Harry’s putting the bread in the toaster, and Harry smiles as he turns around to greet Louis. Louis is always sleepy and soft and adorable in the mornings, especially when breakfast isn’t already ready.

“Good morning,” Harry grins, opening his arms so Louis can come cuddle into his chest like always.

“Morning,” Louis mumbles, shuffling straight into Harry’s arms. “Why isn’t breakfast ready yet?”

“Well, love, eggs take time to cook,” Harry says. “Don’t wanna feed you raw eggs, now do I?”

“No,” Louis agrees, resting his chin on Harry’s chest to look up at him. “Have you made a list of what we need to get at the store?”

“In me head,” Harry says. “But you may want to write it down so we don’t forget.”

Louis shuffles back to the bedroom to grab his phone and then Harry rattles off the grocery list to him, Louis typing the items into his notes. He does a lot more typing than Harry dictates, though, and Harry suspects they’re going to be getting more than what he thinks they really need.

The thing is, though, Harry doesn’t even mind. He already knows Louis is going to fill their trolley with cookies and sweets and hell knows what else but he’s already looking forward to spending his money on Louis, giving him whatever he wants. He’s into Louis, like, really into him, more into him than he’s ever been into anyone. Niall loves to point out the fact that he set them up and, really, Harry has never been so grateful.

They eat breakfast sitting across from each other at the kitchen table and then change quickly, and they’re on their way to the market.

“What do you do at lad’s night?” Louis asks, messing with the buttons on Harry’s car radio. They could walk, but Harry’s anticipating a lot of bags to carry home. “I’ve never had a proper one.”

“You’ve never had a lad’s night?” Harry blinks. “What do you do with your friends?”

“I don’t have many friends,” Louis mutters, looking away from him and out the window. It seems Harry’s uncovered another sensitive topic, and he makes a note in his head to make this the best lad’s night ever, for Louis’s first. 

“Oh,” Harry says. “Well, usually, we eat a lot, drink a lot, mess around a lot, and leave with some new inside jokes no one can remember the origin of and some new FIFA rivalries for next time,” he explains.

Louis smiles, still watching the road. He’s quiet for a few minutes, long enough that Harry thinks the topic is dropped, but then Louis speaks again, voice soft. “Well, I had some friends, you know?” he says.

“Yeah, course,” Harry agrees, glancing over at him.

“Like, I had a bunch,” Louis says. He’s staring at his own lap now, looking confused. “I had a lot of friends, Harry. But they all left me.”

Harry blinks again, watching Louis for a second before focusing his eyes on the road again. “Why?” he asks gently, not sure if Louis even means to be speaking out loud right now.

Louis flinches like he didn’t realize Harry was listening, didn’t expect him to answer. “I don’t know,” he says, voice back to a regular volume. “I didn’t want them to. I begged them not to.”

Harry gets the feeling they’re opening a can of worms here, one they’re not prepared to have open during a grocery shopping trip. “Well, then, they weren’t your real friends,” he says, reaching over to take Louis’s hand in his own.

Louis flinches again, but he holds Harry’s hand tight. He scoffs a little at something Harry’s not sure of, but doesn’t say another word. He’s mostly snapped out of it when Harry parks at the market, though, and Harry decides not to bring it up again until they have some time to really talk about it.

“Alright, then, what’s first on our list?” Harry asks once they’re inside, pushing the trolley while Louis reads their list out to him. 

It takes much longer than it should and they end up with far more in their trolley than they need, but it’s all the makings for the best lad’s night Harry’s ever hosted. They’ve got one of every kind of crisp and every kind of dip, they’ve got bags and bags of cookies and sour gummies and polos, and on top of that, they’ve got sausages and buns for dinner. An hour and more of Harry’s money than he’d like to admit later, they pile everything into the boot of Harry’s car and head back to Harry’s flat.

“I need a shower,” Louis announces as they walk through the door, dropping the shopping bags he’s holding onto the kitchen table. 

“Of course you do, just in time for me to unpack all of this on my own,” Harry mutters, but it’s fond, always fond.

Louis smiles sweetly at him and pecks his lips quickly and then he’s off, shutting himself in the bathroom before Harry can even get all the bags all the way inside. He shakes his head and sets about unpacking everything, clearing space in the fridge for all of the beer and the sausages and the dips that need to stay cold. He’s just finishing up by the time Louis finishes up in the shower, and upon seeing how soft and warm and cuddly Louis looks, he decides he’d quite like one as well.

“Unwrap the plates and forks for me, love,” Harry requests, giving Louis a quick cuddle when he comes into the kitchen just because he can’t help himself. “I’m gonna have a shower, as well.”

Louis hums his acknowledgement and digs the plates and forks out of the shopping bag, getting to work unwrapping them and throwing out the bags. Harry lingers, just watching him for a moment, before finally he turns and hurries to the shower.

There’s still a few hours until the boys are coming over, so Harry takes his time. He washes his hair with the shampoo that Louis likes the smell of and scrubs every inch of his body clean, letting the warm water cascade over his skin for probably too long before he finally gets out. He wraps his towel around his waist and shuffles to his bedroom to get dressed, jumping when he finds Louis sitting on his bed, looking thoughtful.

“Hello, there,” Harry chuckles, turning his back to Louis while he pulls on a pair of pants. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis hums, delayed and too quiet. Harry gives him a little smile and gets dressed, rubbing his towel over his hair and then plopping himself down next to Louis on the bed.

“How do you know Niall?” Louis asks, looking over at him. He’s apprehensive, but he’s trying to hide it, so Harry doesn’t let on that he can tell.

“We went to uni together,” Harry says. “We’ve always been mates. I mean, never best friends, really, I don’t think Niall could ever settle down with one best friend. But he’s always been in my life,” he says.

“Oh,” Louis nods, looking down. “Cool.”

Harry nudges him gently, making Louis look up and smile at him. “How do you know him?” Harry asks.

“I met him out drinking one night,” Louis chuckles. “I tried to use him as a rebound after a really shitty break up, but I didn’t realize he was straight until I tried to kiss him,” he admits.

Harry can’t help the way he laughs, loudly and suddenly. “How did you ever think Niall was anything but straight?” he giggles, watching Louis shrug.

“Dunno,” Louis says, his smile fading slowly. Harry’s smile falls a little, as well, and he tries to meet Louis’s eyes.

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” Harry asks.

Louis groans, glancing over at Harry. “Yes,” he mutters. “Well, no.” He sighs, shaking his head. “There’s something I should tell you,” he says, “but I don’t know how.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Harry says, trying to meet Louis’s eyes again when Louis looks down. “I know we haven’t been together that long, but you know I’m here for you, for whatever you need,” he assures.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, still not looking up. “Of course.” They’re quiet for a moment, both waiting for something they’re not sure of yet. “Thank you,” Louis whispers, finally meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Of course,” Harry smiles, giving Louis a little nod. 

They’re quiet for another few minutes. Louis appears to be collecting his thoughts and Harry doesn’t want to rush him or interrupt him, and finally Louis sighs again.

“It’s not you knowing or your reaction that i’m worried about,” he says, clearly able to tell that Harry can tell he’s worried. “I just don’t know if I can say it out loud,” he mutters.

“Well, that’s okay,” Harry shrugs. “I don’t need to know anything more than you’re willing to tell me. Take all the time you need,” he says.

Louis slumps a little, looking relieved. “Thank you. I know I say things sometimes that probably have you wondering and I want to tell you, really, but I don’t think I can yet,” he says.

Harry just smiles and tries to reach for his hand, but Louis isn’t expecting it, and he jumps like Harry just shouted in his ear. Harry jumps a little too and Louis immediately crumbles, grabbing Harry’s hand so tight it almost hurts, like he’s afraid Harry’s going to pull away.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he gushes, holding Harry’s hand to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright, don’t be sorry,” Harry says, a bit frozen as he watches Louis cuddle his hand. He feels like shit for scaring him, should have known to be more gentle, and he also feels horrible that now Louis feels bad for thinking he scared Harry.

Louis nudges his nose against Harry’s thumb, letting out a breath into his palm. “How much did Niall tell you about me?” he asks finally, peeking through Harry’s fingers at him.

“Honestly, not much,” Harry says. “He just said you’re bubbly, and happy, and you light up a room. All of which is absolutely true,” he smiles.

Louis gives him the softest of smiles in return, nuzzling into his hand again. “I promise I will tell you everything someday,” he whispers. “Please don’t think I’m keeping secrets from you.”

“I never did,” Harry says, rubbing over Louis’s cheek gently with his thumb.

“Yeah, but, I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you,” Louis worries, pulling Harry’s hand away from his face and holding it in his lap.

“I don’t feel that way,” Harry assures, squeezing Louis hands.

Louis just watches him for a second, shaking his head. “How are you so good?” he asks, voice full of wonder.

“What do you mean?” Harry frowns.

“You’re perfect,” Louis says. “You’re gentle, and forgiving, and you can read me so well. You never push or even say the wrong thing,” he says. “How are you so good for me?”

Harry goes quiet, eyes falling to where Louis is still clutching his hand in his lap. “Don’t think you’re the only one with a story you’re not ready to tell,” he says quietly.

Louis goes soft, even softer than he already was, squeezing Harry’s hand tight. He looks a bit sad when Harry looks up, but also hopeful, like he knows as well as Harry does that they’re both in this for the long haul.

Louis launches himself at Harry, tackling him over backwards on the bed. Harry laughs and holds him steady so he doesn’t roll off, cuddling him close when they settle in the center of the bed. Louis cocoons them in the duvet and Harry lets him tuck his head under his chin, and that’s where they stay until the lads show up. It’s a perfect night, even though dinner isn’t even started when it should be finished, and for Louis’s first lad’s night, it’s a hit.

-

Harry doesn’t know how he got here, but it’s too late to question anything, trudging through the woods behind Liam with his gun hanging heavy in its holster attached to his belt. Liam’s been his partner since he became a detective, and though Liam only has a couple years seniority on him, he’s everything Harry hopes to be someday.

“Tip said it was about a mile in,” Liam says, pulling out his phone and reading something over before surveying the thick covering of trees surrounding them. 

It’s nearly dark; Harry doesn’t know why they’re out here looking so late. Surely the bodies will still be here in the morning when it’s safer and easier to find them.

“Maybe we should look in the daylight,” Harry suggests, watching the ground under his feet while he walks. “Maybe it’s best if we-”

He cuts off when he walks into something, stumbling back to find a body swinging from a tree in front him. She’s dead, all naked and covered in blood and dirt, face twisted eternally in horror at the last thing she saw. Harry hardly contains his scream of terror, stumbling back and back until he stumbles into another body.

Suddenly the woods are full of bodies hanging from trees, all of them naked and bloody and dirty. Harry whimpers and turns in a circle, looking for a way out. He can’t do this.

Liam is gone, vanished into the night, which is suddenly closing in quickly. There are dead bodies everywhere Harry looks and they’re blocking him in, all swinging and flailing and then screaming, all of them at once, all of them shrieking his name and begging him to save them.

Harry cries out and falls to his knees, grabbing at his hair. “I’m sorry!” he screams, hiding his face in his knees. “I’m sorry! I can’t save you!”

The screams get louder, every dead girl he couldn’t save swinging and thrashing around, making wind that nearly knocks Harry over, piercing his eardrums with their constant shrieking. Harry sobs and curls up tight on the ground, apologizing over and over, and somehow the girls must have gotten loose from the ropes stringing them up on the trees because they’re grabbing him, shaking him, shouting in his ears and Harry is terrified, frozen in fear, screaming and screaming and-

He wakes up with a painful jolt, sobbing loudly. There’s only one pair of arms around him, now, and they’re small but strong, rocking him gently. Harry squirms away but he can’t go far, tangled up in the sheets in his bed, and slowly he starts to realize where he is. 

“Hey,” Louis is saying, over and over, tugging him back into his arms. “You’re alright, you’re awake, I’m here. It was just a dream, love, you’re okay,” he soothes.

Harry reaches for him quickly, getting his fist knotted in his sleep shirt and sobbing again.

“I’ve got you,” Louis hushes him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple.

Harry stares at the wall across from the bed and forces himself to calm down, but his brain takes a few minutes to accept the fact that everything’s fine. He slowly relaxes and goes pliant in Louis’s arms, letting Louis rock him until he’s coherent enough to speak.

“What happened?” he chokes out, voice still shaking. Louis must be terrified, fucking hell; whatever baggage Louis is toting around, he wonders if it’s anything as bad as this.

“I don’t know, love,” Louis says gently. “You were talking in your sleep, something about daylight, and it woke me up. And then you started screaming, and you wouldn’t wake up for so long, I was so worried,” he says, brushing Harry’s hair off his sweaty, sticky forehead.

Harry wipes at his forehead and looks at his fingers, just one final check to make sure it’s sweat on his hand and not the blood of all the people he couldn’t save.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, turning his face into Louis’s chest and sobbing again, quietly this time. “Shit, fuck, sorry, Lou.”

“No, no, no,” Louis says quickly, gathering Harry’s body up in his arms and hugging him tight. “Don’t be sorry, love. Are you okay?”

Harry’s body is still trembling, mind still racing, skin still clammy and feverish. He shakes his head, and Louis holds him tight to his body.

It takes a long while, but finally Harry drifts back to sleep with his face tucked into Louis’s neck, Louis’s limbs wrapped all around him and keeping him warm and safe and peaceful.

-

Louis is awake when Harry finally wakes up again, late the next morning. Louis gives him a soft, sleepy smile, carding his fingers through Harry’s hair and making his eyes flutter a little.

“Good morning,” Louis says, watching Harry’s face. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, sitting up a little. “Did you ever get back to sleep?”

“No,” Louis admits. “I wanted to make sure you would be okay.”

Harry sighs, rolling over on top of Louis and snuggling him almost to death. “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, love,” Louis chuckles, scratching at Harry’s scalp. “Does that, um, does that happen often?” he asks, worried.

“Uh, not as often as it used to,” Harry says, hesitant and quiet. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t really want to, and Louis nods.

“Is that part of your story?” Louis asks, sounding like he already knows. They both have stories, Harry reminds himself, they both have dark pasts they don’t want to discuss yet.

Harry just nods, closing his eyes. Louis doesn’t push or say anything more, just rubs his hand down Harry’s spine and massages what he can reach.

When Harry finally looks up at him, Louis just smiles comfortingly and kisses him softly. Harry’s heart swells with adoration and he knows he has to keep Louis around as long as he can, because he doesn’t know what he’d do without him, even this early on.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, earnestly.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to deal with baggage,” Louis says, hugging Harry tight. Harry rolls off of Louis and curls up beside him under the covers, dragging Louis into his arms. Louis falls asleep within a few minutes and Harry holds him the whole time, lips pressing lingering kisses the back of his head and heart aching to never let him go.

\---

“It’s a quarter of a year, Harry!” Louis shouts down the line, voice loud over the background noise. He’s at work but the kids are at lunch, so naturally, he called Harry to fill up his empty time. “Of course we have to celebrate!”

“I’ve literally never heard of a three month anniversary celebration,” Harry chuckles. He’s at work, as well, snuck out the back door of the dealership to speak with Louis in between two dumpsters. It smells horrible. Harry wishes Louis was here with him.

“Well, now you have,” Louis says, sounding smug for some reason Harry can’t comprehend. 

“Fine, then, what do you want to do?” Harry asks, peeking around the dumpster to make sure no one is coming looking for him. He should be helping people find their dream car, but he can’t be bothered.

“We could go clubbing again,” Louis suggests. “We haven’t been since the first time.”

Harry sighs, ducking back behind the dumpster when someone rounds the corner of the building. They’re probably not actually looking for him, but he can’t be too careful. “Lou, I’m not really crazy about clubbing,” he says.

“But you’re crazy about me,” Louis says immediately. “And I love clubbing. Please?”

“Fine,” Harry mutters, rolling his eyes. “Alright, yeah, we can go clubbing.”

Louis cheers, and there’s a lot of rustling like maybe he’s trying not to drop the phone. Harry grins just imagining it, wishing yet again that Louis was beside him.

“Alright, we can talk more about it later,” Louis says, “I have to get ready for class, the kids will be in any minute.”

“Alright, love, have fun,” Harry hums. “Text me when you get out, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles distractedly. “Bye, Hazza.”

Harry hangs up the phone and stuffs it in his pocket, peeking out around the dumpster again and planning his escape. The coast looks clear enough when he darts out, slipping back through the back door of the dealership and back to the show room without anyone noticing.

“Harry!” his boss yells, startling him nearly out of his skin. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over. There’s a couple over there looking at sedans, want you convince them to go for something a little more expensive, yeah?”

Harry nods and swallows the urge to roll his eyes, setting off to go find the couple in question. It’s a long day, but he knows he’ll get to talk to Louis when he’s done, maybe even invite him over and spend the evening with him, so it’s not bad. 

-

Eventually, though much earlier than Harry expected, Louis allows the dancing to stop for a bit so they can sit at the bar and have a drink. Harry’s snagged a single free stool by the corner and Louis’s mostly in his lap, leaning back against his chest and sipping on a drink. Harry’s got an arm around his waist, holding him in place so he won’t slip off his lap. He’s in a rather precarious position; Harry’s lap isn’t terribly wide, and Louis’s arse is centered over one thigh, he’s bound to tip off at any moment.

“This,” Louis says, turning his head up and back to talk directly into Harry’s ear, “is a very uncomfortable place to sit.”

Harry chuckles, setting his drink down on the bar and wrapping both arms around Louis’s middle, holding him tight. “I’m pretty comfy,” he hums, hooking his chin over Louis’s shoulder.

“Well, obviously _you_ are,” Louis scoffs, wriggling his hips a little so his bum grinds into Harry’s thigh. They still haven’t had sex, but Louis does like to tease a good bit when he’s drunk enough. Harry knows to respect his boundaries, though, probably wouldn’t react even if Louis wasn’t so freaked out by sex, because he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing anyway.

He simply hums and nuzzles his face into Louis’s neck, pressing a tiny kiss to the warm skin he finds there. Louis loosens a little more in his lap, smiling up at him lazily. “Wanna dance more,” he says, sitting up a little. “Me arse is going numb.”

“Haven’t finished my drink,” Harry says, holding up his glass, which is still half full with rum and coke. 

Louis rolls his eyes and grabs his own drink, tipping it back and finishing it off. “Gonna pee,” Louis says, letting himself slip off of Harry’s lap, landing wobbly on his feet. “Then I wanna dance,” he says, poking his finger into Harry’s chest and looking as menacing as he can.

“Got it,” Harry grins, pecking Louis’s snarling lips. Louis gives him a grin in return and scampers off toward the back of the club where the toilets are, and Harry sips again at his drink.

Louis takes forever in the bathroom on any given day, and it gets worse when he’s drunk, so Harry expects to have at least a few minutes more to finish his drink before he gets dragged back to the dance floor. He leans forward to prop his elbows up on the bar and watches the people around him for a moment over the rim of his glass, glancing over when the girl in the stool next to him gets up and disappears into the crowd.

A guy immediately takes her place, leaning on the bar next to Harry and asking the bartender politely for a drink. Harry leans back a bit, so they’re not so close, paying the man no mind as he sips at his drink.

“Hi,” the guy says, gaining Harry’s attention. He looks friendly enough, but Harry has never been terribly extroverted, so he smiles tightly in response.

“Hi,” he says, finishing off his drink and making to get up, maybe go find Louis, give him that dance.

“I just wanted to say, I’ve seen you around a bit tonight, and I love your shirt,” the guy says. “My name’s Andrew.”

“Harry,” Harry responds, holding an awkward hand out for Andrew to shake. “And thanks, uh, I’m not sure I remember where I got it.”

“Well, that’s alright, I suppose it looks better on you than it would on me,” Andrew chuckles. “What brings you here tonight?” he asks conversationally.

“Three month anniversary,” Harry shrugs. “Dunno. My boyfriend thought it was occasion enough to celebrate. Think it was secretly a trick to get my clumsy arse back on the dance floor so he can laugh at me,” he says.

Andrew laughs, taking his drink carefully from the bartender. “Sounds fun, then,” he hums.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Harry mutters.

“You look awfully familiar,” Andrew says, inspecting his face for a moment. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Uh, don’t think so,” Harry shakes his head, inspecting Andrew back. “You haven’t bought a car recently, have you?”

“Um, no?” Andrew frowns, looking confused.

“I work at a dealership,” Harry explains. “That’s about the only place I go, really. Except when Louis drags me out to clubs, like tonight,” he jokes.

Andrew’s eyes flash a little, but Harry thinks nothing of it. “Louis, hm? Is he French?” Andrew smirks.

“He’s English, but he may have a bit of French in him,” Harry says. “It’s spelled like ‘Lewis’, but he uses the more pretentious pronunciation,” he chuckles. “Though I think it fits him quite well.”

“Sounds like you should be taking him to France for an anniversary, then, not a nightclub,” Andrew says.

“That’s our plan for four months,” Harry jokes. Andrew laughs much too loud, putting his drink down. 

“What made you choose this place, anyway? Kind of a hole in the wall,” he says.

“It’s Lou’s favorite,” Harry says. “It’s, like, right in the middle between our flats, so it’s a good meeting point. Except that he’s usually lazing about at my place,” he shrugs.

“Where do you live, then?” Andrew asks. “My place is about a block away, maybe we’re neighbors.”

“I’m about two blocks that way,” Harry says, pointing behind him. “Kind of a small building, but it works.”

“Ah, I think I know the place. I have a mate that used to live in that building,” Andrew nods. “You wouldn’t happen to work at the dealership on Broad street, right?”

“That’s the one,” Harry nods, holding his drink up as if to cheer. “Hate it, but it pays rent.”

“Well, me mum’s looking for a new car, maybe I’ll take her up there,” Andrew says. “You’d give a good deal, wouldn’t you?”

“If my boss lets me,” Harry chuckles, glancing down at his watch. It’s been awhile since Louis left to go to the toilet, and he’s still not back. Harry turns in his seat to look over the crowd, making sure he didn’t find someone else to dance with.

“Everything okay?” Andrew asks, following Harry’s line of vision.

“My boyfriend went to the toilet a few minutes ago and I don’t know what he’s got up to,” Harry says, glancing over at Andrew. “Should probably make sure he’s alright.”

“Right, let me help you,” Andrew says, looking worried. “What’s he look like?”

“Short, brown hair, blue eyes,” Harry mutters, stretching up to look over the crowd of people on the dance floor. “He’s in a red t-shirt with black jeans.”

Andrew nods and slips out of his seat, stretching up on his toes to survey the dance floor. Harry pulls out his phone to see if Louis has sent him anything, his stomach flipping when he sees not one but _seven_ messages from the boy.

_Louis: we have to go_

_Louis: please harry we need to leave_

_Louis: the guy you’re talking to is my ex he’s crazy and manipulative please let’s go_

_Louis: i’m outside please come asap_

_Louis: harry please where are you_

_Louis: i’m so scared harry please i want to go lets go stop talking to him_

_Louis: where are you_

“Shit,” Harry breathes, slipping out of his stool and glancing around for Andrew. The man is stalking toward the exit of the club; he must have read the texts over Harry’s shoulder. Harry swears again and takes off after him, shoving through the crowd to get to the exit before Andrew.

By the time he finally makes it outside he spots Andrew making his way across the pavement to where Louis is leaning against the building, chewing on his lip and staring at his phone. Louis doesn’t see him coming and Andrew is too far away for Harry to stop without causing a scene, so he shouts and starts running again.

There aren’t a lot of people outside but there are a few, enough that Harry puts everyone on alert by shouting and running, grabbing Andrew’s arm and whipping him around. Louis jumps and cowers a little when he realizes what’s going on, watching with wide eyes.

“Let go of me, what the fuck!” Andrew shouts, trying to shake Harry off. Harry holds tight, tugging Andrew close and getting in his face.

“Leave him alone,” Harry growls, looking as scary as he can. “Stay the fuck away from him, and me.”

Andrew’s face goes red with rage and he tries to swing at Harry, but Harry manages to dodge him. A bouncer comes out before Andrew can make another move and tears them apart, dragging Andrew back.

“Fuck you!” Andrew screams, fighting against the bouncer’s hold. “This isn’t over, Lewis!”

Harry turns to look at Louis, who is now shaking where he stands. He looks like he’s going to cry, and Harry doesn’t know if he wants to be approached, but when Louis’s eyes lock on Harry’s, Harry knows exactly what to do.

“You’re fine,” he says, walking over and letting Louis crash into his chest. “You’re alright, you’re safe, I won’t let him hurt you.”

“He was talking to you,” Louis says, voice shaky and slurred like he’s about to absolutely lose his mind. “What did you tell him?”

 _Where I live, where I work, where you live, where you spend most of your time_ , Harry thinks, his stomach sinking. “Nothing, love, shh,” he says instead, petting at Louis’s hair. “Let’s go home now, yeah?”

Louis just nods, but he doesn’t move from where he’s trying to implant himself in Harry’s chest. Harry tries to hold him in a way that’s more conducive to them walking back to his flat, but Louis is far too shaken to walk.

Harry manages to flag down a cab for them and helps Louis into the back of it, letting him cuddle immediately into his side once they’re both inside. Louis’s breathing is shaky and ragged but he doesn’t break down in the cab, somehow managing to hold himself mostly together until they get back to Harry’s. His eyes are wild and panicked when Harry looks down at him and he looks like he’s not in his right mind, like that brief encounter was enough to send him absolutely spiraling out of control.

“I’ve got you,” Harry tells him as he helps him out of the cab, throwing some cash at the driver and leading Louis into the building. Usually Louis doesn’t like to be touched when he’s freaked out but now it’s like he can’t get close enough to Harry, glued to his side as Harry guides him into the lift. He stays quiet until they get through Harry’s door and then Louis buries himself back into his chest, holding him tight and breathing roughly into his shirt.

Harry just holds him, waiting to see if he’ll cry or speak or something, but Louis just keeps breathing and squeezing him. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Harry asks eventually, scratching at Louis’s scalp and trying to look down at him.

Louis starts to cry immediately, like those were the words that broke the dam. He sobs into Harry’s chest, trembling fingers fisted in the back of Harry’s shirt, his nose squished into Harry’s sternum.

“I don’t know if I can,” Louis cries after a moment, not moving a muscle. Harry rubs his back and Louis sobs again, his knees threatening to give and send them both crumbling to the floor.

“Why don’t you go get into bed,” Harry says, but he makes no move to pry Louis off of his body himself. “I’ll bring you some tea and we can relax a little bit,” he says.

Louis just cries a little harder, letting go of Harry and shuffling off to the bedroom, still rigid and trembling. Harry kind of wants to cry, as well, watching him, his blood boiling at the thought of whatever happened to do this to him.

He turns the kettle on and takes out Louis’s favorite mug, and a box of decaf tea from the cupboard over the stove. He can hear Louis crying, muffled now, from the bedroom, and his heart just about breaks in two. He feels so awful for talking to the bastard, for not checking his phone sooner, for letting Andrew get that close to getting his hands on Louis.

He makes Louis’s tea just the way he likes it and brings it to the bedroom, where he finds Louis just standing beside the bed, crying with his hands knotted in his own t-shirt. Harry sets the mug down on the bedside table and guides Louis into the bed and under the covers, letting him cuddle into his side and then handing him the tea.

Louis holds the mug in rigid hands and presses his face into Harry’s shoulder, his cries quieting just a little when Harry holds him tight. He lets him cry for a few minutes and then reaches for his laptop on the bedside table, opening Netflix with the hand that’s not holding Louis. He turns on the first movie he finds and shifts it so Louis can see, hoping that the film will distract him enough to get him to calm down.

It works, for the most part. Louis sips at the tea and watches the movie, calming down slowly. Harry just holds him, ignoring the movie, focusing his attention on Louis’s breathing and the decreased shaking of his shoulders under Harry’s arm.

It’s quiet when the movie ends, but Louis doesn’t move, so neither does Harry. They sit there for a full minute before Louis reaches out and closes the laptop, putting his mostly empty mug down on the bedside table. He slumps against Harry and Harry lays them down, thinking Louis will just fall asleep. He jumps when Louis starts talking, not expecting the quiet rasp of his voice.

“He was terrible,” he says. Harry holds him a little tighter, letting Louis be as small as he wants in the crook of his arm. “We met at uni. He was my friend’s roommate. We dated for a semester and then took all the same classes the next semester, and it worked somehow. I really loved him. We dated for years and years, and he wasn’t abusive the whole time, I swear. He was so lovely. But then we moved out to Wales together, in the middle of nowhere. He wanted privacy and space, and I just wanted to be with him. So we lived out there together, in a little house with nobody near us. It was heaven, for the first few months. Then he started getting mad more often, about nothing, usually, and he would say things, mean things, things that were meant to hurt. And they did hurt. He would tell me I was too fat, or stupid, or useless, things like that. He cost me all my friends because he would never let me go out to spend time with them, or invite them round ours, even though we had the space. So I lost all my friends, until he was the only person I had, but that was fine, because he told me he was the only person I needed, that without him I’d be too useless anyway. He told me I’d be fucked without him, because if he left me, I would have nowhere to live and no one to turn to, and he said I would have to go back to living with my family, which would make me a failure, and I would be a burden on them, and I didn’t want that. So I stayed with him, and I loved him as well as I could, but nothing I did was ever enough. He was always disappointed with me, told me he hated me and everything about me, the way I looked and acted, and he said I was shit in bed, and I was lucky he even kept me around. He complained the whole time whenever we had sex, but he would still force me to sleep with him every night, even if I cried and couldn’t, you know, get hard or anything. That was why he thought I was so bad, because I never even wanted it. But it was fine, because after he would tell me he was sorry and he loved me, but then it’d happen all over again the next day.”

Harry lets out a pained little breath and tugs Louis closer, unable to imagine ever being able to be that horrible to another person, especially not Louis. Louis’s not finished with his story yet, though, takes a shuddering breath and keeps on.

“So one day, I decided I’d had enough. I started to feel like one of those damsels in distress that everyone wonders, ‘why didn’t she just run away?’ So I ran away. I bought a train ticket to London and I left early in the morning and I called him on the phone when I was halfway there and told him I was never coming back and that I never wanted to see him again and he kept asking where I was going and that he was going to find me and that I was going to die without him and I just hung up on him and blocked his number. And then I got to London and the first thing I did was go get drunk at a bar because I was so sad and lonely and heartbroken. I thought maybe if I could find someone to shag, I could get my mind off him, and maybe it would make me feel good to have someone actually want me.

“That was the night I met Niall. He was so kind and friendly to me, even when I tried to kiss him, and when he turned me down I almost cried and he offered to let me crash at his place, so I did. I decided then, when I introduced myself to him, to start going by Lou-ie, instead of Lou-is. I didn’t want to be the boy Andrew knew. I wanted to be someone I didn’t even know, someone completely new. Niall let me stay for like, two entire weeks until I found a job and a flat and I finally started to get on my feet, and I just repressed everything and never told anyone what happened.”

“You should have told someone,” Harry whispers, lips pressed to Louis’s head. “Niall, he could have helped you. I could have helped you.”

“Niall was already helping me enough, and I didn’t even know you yet,” Louis mutters. “But, I started trying to sleep around. I’d pretty much sworn off relationships because I didn’t ever want to end up with someone like Andrew again, and I thought maybe sleeping with a bunch of guys would help my self-confidence. But it didn’t. Andrew ruined me pretty good; I couldn’t even get my shirt off without hearing his voice telling me I was fat, ugly, a terrible fuck and lousy at head. So I ended up leaving a lot of guy’s houses in the middle of the night, usually running. Some of them wouldn’t take no for an answer, not after the way I came onto them, and they’d try to force me anyway. So I spent a lot of time on the streets, wandering, crying, wondering if Andrew had fucked me up for good and if I was ever going to be able to fix myself, or if he was right. I thought maybe I should just go back to him, because at least when I was with him I had someone, even if he was mean. But then I ran into Niall again and he told me about you, his friend from uni who is sad and sweet and single. He told me you were trying to date and not doing so well, and I almost said no, because I really didn’t want to be in another relationship, but he showed me your picture and told me about you, about the times you and he had in university, and I thought you were nothing like Andrew. So I agreed to let him give you my number. I was terrified, the night of our first date. I was so scared of you, I almost didn’t go. And I know you knew that, especially after I freaked out in the park. But you’re gentle, and patient, and you never push or even say the wrong thing. You’re exactly what I’ve been needing. I need you,” he says, quiet and sad and broken.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry breathes, tugging Louis close. “I’m here. I’m always gonna be here. I’m never gonna push you, or be mean to you. Don’t think I ever could,” he says.

“I don’t think you could, either,” Louis says, smiling through the few tears that have dripped down his cheeks. “But now I’m terrified, because he’s here, he found me, he knows where I am and who you are. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you any of this earlier; we could have avoided it, could have made sure he didn’t find me, or us… And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was such a shit show, and I know you’re probably freaked out, and it’s fine if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore. He’s evil, Harry, and I don’t know what he’s capable of, and I don’t want to put you in danger,” he says. His lip is wobbling again, scared, like he actually thinks Harry might tell him to leave.

“Listen to me,” Harry says, holding Louis’s face and wiping away his tears with his thumbs. “I am never, ever, going to leave you. I’m going to be here for as long as you want me, no matter what. He’s not gonna touch you, I’m gonna make sure of it. I’m never gonna let him get near you, yeah?”

Louis nods, digging his face into Harry’s neck. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “But if you change your mind, I won’t stop you.”

“Never gonna change my mind,” Harry assures, holding him close. “Thank you for telling me all of that. I know it was hard.”

“I just don’t want to get you involved in anything you don’t need to be involved in,” Louis says, propping himself up on his elbows. “I want you to know you have an out, and I’ll be fine.”

“Shit, Louis, shut up,” Harry can’t help but chuckle, thumbing over his bottom lip. “I’ve been falling in love with you this whole time, if you think your history is going to change that, you’re insane,” he says.

Louis’s eyes sparkle, full of tears again. “But it isn’t my history, Harry,” he breathes. “It’s still happening. He’s still looking for me.”

“True,” Harry says, tugging Louis back into his arms. “But we’re gonna make it your history now, yeah? We’re gonna get rid of him.”

Louis just sniffles into his chest and nods. Harry hums a little tune into his ear, rubbing his head and his back until he drifts off to sleep. They’re both still in their clothes, but Harry just wants Louis to rest, wants him to be safe and at ease for at least a little while. He waits until Louis is sleeping deeply, snoring quietly into his chest, before he wriggles out from under him, tucking him into the blankets and creeping out of the room, grabbing his laptop on the way out.

He settles down on the sofa with it, pulling up some old websites he hasn’t looked at in ages. It doesn’t take long to figure out Andrew’s last name and his address, which is nowhere near where he told Harry he lived. He’s on the phone to Liam before he can even make the conscious decision, and Liam answers immediately, despite the fact it’s nearly 2am.

“Harry?” Liam answers, sounding worried. “Everything alright?”

“I have a favour to ask, Liam,” Harry says.

“Anything, bro,” Liam says. “You’ve saved my arse a hundred times over.” It’s not true, but Harry knows Liam still feels bad that he couldn’t make the detective life work for himself.

“I need you to find someone for me,” Harry says. “And find literally any reason you can to arrest him.”

“I’m on it,” Liam says, without a moment’s hesitation. “What’s the name?”

Harry gives him Andrew’s name and briefly tells Louis’s story, and when they hang up, Liam is already searching through his records. Harry doesn’t have access to all of the databases he used to as a detective, but he knows that if Andrew has ever had so much as a slap on the wrist, Liam will be able to find it.

It takes a while, but Harry doesn’t stop searching for hours, and finally Liam calls back around 5am. 

“I’ve got a petty theft in London about a month before he moved to Wales,” he says. “Never paid the fine, never even properly got caught, but his face is clear in the security footage. Good enough for you?”

“Good enough for me,” Harry says. “I just need him behind bars. I know we can get him on so much more than that.”

“I’ll put out the warrant for his arrest in the morning,” Liam says. “But, hey, take it easy, yeah? We both know what this kind of work does to you,” he says carefully.

“I know, Liam,” Harry mutters. “But this is worth it, trust me.”

He closes his laptop when he hangs up with Liam, leaving it on the sofa and going to change out of his jeans. He slips back into bed with Louis in joggers, carefully maneuvering himself under the covers and curling around Louis’s body. Louis stirs and opens his eyes, frowning up at him.

“What happened?” Louis asks groggily, making to sit up.

“Shh, nothing,” Harry whispers, pulling him back down into his arms. “Nothing, it’s okay. I’ve got everything under control.”

Louis just looks at him confusedly and then rolls over, letting Harry cuddle up to his back. He’s asleep again within seconds and Harry lets himself doze off as well, knowing he’s doing everything he can possibly do to protect this boy in his arms.

\---

“You what?”

Harry thought this might go a lot of different ways, but Louis being upset wasn’t one of them. It took a couple days for Andrew to actually get caught and put under arrest, and Harry waited to tell Louis until it was over so he didn’t get his hopes up if his plan didn’t work out. “I got him arrested,” Harry repeats. “He had some offenses on his record that he never got properly caught for, so I made sure he got caught. Now he’s off the streets, and you don’t have to worry about him showing up every time you go outside,” he says, smiling hopefully, like Louis might wipe the furious shock off his face.

“Shit, Harry!” Louis hisses, running a hand through his hair. “You can’t just go around arresting people for stealing candy from a convenience store six years ago!”

“I absolutely can,” Harry huffs. “And by the time they’re done with him, that’s not all they’re gonna have him for. He’s gonna confess to everything he did to you, Lou, and if he’s done something else, as well, and he’s gonna go away for a long time,” he says.”

Louis lets out a shaky sigh, tugging at his own hair and pacing around Harry’s living room. Oh, Harry might have fucked up.

“Who else knows that this is happening?” Louis asks, voice weak.

“Just me, and my friend Liam,” Harry assures. “And, well, the entirety of London PD.”

Louis whimpers, sitting down hard on the sofa and holding his head in his hands. “Fucking shit, Harry. Fuck.”

“Did I do the wrong thing?” Harry asks gently, sitting down next to him, but not close enough that Louis could even reach out and touch him. 

“Harry, it took me three months to even tell you what happened, and now the whole fucking city knows,” he chokes out. 

“No one has to know anything,” Harry assures. “I only told Liam what I absolutely needed to, and no one else has to know that you were ever involved. It’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna be safe and he’s gonna be out of your life,” he says.

Louis just shakes his head, looking up at Harry with tears in his eyes. Harry’s heart sinks, his mouth opening to spout excuses that his brain can’t come up with.

“I can’t believe you did this,” Louis breathes, standing up off the sofa and into Harry’s bedroom, out of sight. Harry stays frozen in place until Louis comes back out with his shoes on and his bag slung over his shoulder, not looking Harry in the eyes.

“Lou,” he tries, getting up to chase Louis to the door.

“Don’t call me,” Louis mutters, slipping out before Harry can say another word.

Harry stops in his tracks once the door is closed, shuffling silently back to the sofa and collapsing onto it. Fuck, he thinks, he really did fuck this up. Louis’s pissed at him for taking matters into his own hands, he supposes, for not involving him in the decision that would determine his own future, or part of it, at least. It probably wasn’t Harry’s decision to make, seeing as how he’s not the one that suffered.

But even as he thinks about it, tearing it apart over and over in his head, he can’t agree that he did the wrong thing. He doesn’t understand why Louis can’t understand that this is the best thing that could happen. With Andrew in jail Louis is absolutely free, and he can know that Andrew is paying for everything he did. With Andrew in jail Louis never has to worry about him showing up at his door or in a club or on the streets ever again. He never has to be afraid of running into him, having to speak to him or even look at him. Harry doesn’t understand why Louis isn’t relieved. 

He considers calling several times over the course of the day but in the end, Louis said not to, so he doesn’t. He’s done enough damage, he can at least respect Louis’s wishes now. He spends the day on the sofa, watching reruns of shows he usually watches with Louis, moping and trying to figure out a way to fix this.

-

He rolls over for maybe the hundredth time, staring at the clock on his bedside table. It’s late, too late to still be awake, but he can’t sleep knowing that Louis is out there somewhere being mad at him. He wants to call so badly, but he doesn’t reach for his phone, hoping that if he respects Louis’s boundaries this time he’ll come around. He knows he should’ve talked to Louis before talking to Liam but, Jesus, he just wants his boy back.

He flips over again and buries his face in his pillow, tugging the spare pillow into his arms to cuddle it, to pretend it’s Louis. He’s halfway to pretending he’s gonna fall asleep again when he hears it: a tiny, unsure knock on the door, so gentle that it could only be one person.

He nearly falls out of bed in his haste to get up, tripping his way to the door and pulling open. Louis is looking down, looking rumpled and tired, like he was trying to sleep too.

“Hi,” Harry says, cautiously, pulling the door open a little wider. “Do you want to come in?”

Louis doesn’t respond, just walks straight into Harry’s chest, wrapping his arms around him. Harry takes his hand off the doorknob and hugs him back, burying his face in his neck.

“Thank you,” Louis says, voice muffled and soft. “I think.”

“What?” Harry breathes, pulling his head back to try and meet Louis’s eyes.

“I know you were trying to protect me,” Louis says, pulling back as well and looking up at Harry’s face. He looks like he’s trying to be strong, so Harry backs off a little to let him. “And, honestly, it is a relief to know that he’s gonna be out of my life. But if you ever fucking make that kind of decision again without talking to me first, I will leave your ass, Harry Styles. I am not weak, I am not fragile. I’m a little bit broken, I think, but that’s my business, not yours,” he bites.

“Understood, completely,” Harry assures. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way, and that I made the decision without you, but I’m not sorry that I did it. I’m not sorry that he’s not going to be able to bother you anymore,” he says honestly.

“Yeah,” Louis mutters. He still looks upset, but like he’s ready to forgive. “I’m not really sorry about that, either.”

Harry smiles, opening his arms again. Louis grins and falls into his chest, letting Harry walk him backwards toward his bedroom. They fall into bed together, still hugging, the reality that they’re both safe and together finally starting to sink in.

It’s easier to relax with Louis’s head on his shoulder and their legs tangled under the covers, but still Harry can’t fall asleep, and apparently, neither can Louis. Louis keeps squirming against him, kicking him under the covers, and every time he seems to settle down, Harry shifts and disturbs him again.

Finally Louis rolls over with a huff, propping his chin up on Harry’s chest. “Tell me a story,” he requests sweetly, slipping his cold hand up Harry’s shirt to rest over his skin.

Harry peers down at him in the dark, chewing on his lip. He supposes now is as good a time as ever; he knows Louis’s story now, after all, and it’s time Louis knows his as well.

“I have nightmares sometimes because I used to be a detective,” Harry says. “And it fucked me up.”

Louis blinks, the playful smile falling from his face. “It doesn’t have to be this story,” he whispers, but there’s a softness in his eyes that tells Harry he wants to know.

“It does have to be this story,” Harry says. Louis lets out a breath and nods, putting his head down flat on Harry’s chest and playing with the hem of his shirt, waiting for him to go on.

“I was so excited back in uni,” Harry says. “Ask Niall, ask anyone who knew me. I thought I was gonna be Sherlock Holmes, was gonna save lives and solve mysteries and be a hero. I got a job in London right out of school and started training, and it was amazing, being good at what they asked of me. I could profile criminals, could solve problems better than anyone else they had seen, or so they told me. They put me on with one of their best detectives, who had just lost his partner to retirement. I was brand new but they thought I could handle the big stuff, the tough stuff. I guess I couldn’t.

“Then I started going on real cases. My first case was a family that was murdered in their own home. It was the gardener, by the way, that killed them and left their dead, bloody bodies in their beds. It’s not like on television, though. You don’t get to cut out the hardest bits, like recovering from what you’ve seen. You don’t get to end every case with a heartwarming scene and a Ghandi quote, not in real life. It was nothing like I expected it to be.”

“Harry,” Louis breathes, fist curling in Harry’s t-shirt. Harry isn’t done, though, hasn’t said even half of what he’s been dealing with.

“When I close my eyes, I still see it, sometimes. I can still see the lifeless eyes of all those girls, naked and mangled, and of children bloodied and battered. I still dream about missing murder weapons and killers on the loose, lovers turned stone cold criminals and parents turned demons. It ruined me. I wasn’t ready for it, any of it. It was too much too fast. Every other week I was faced with another pair of eyes that I couldn’t do anything to help. All those lives I couldn’t save, all the children that would never grow up, the girls who’d been used and abused and dumped in swamps like they weren’t even humans. I couldn’t handle it, Louis. It broke me. My dream broke my heart. And now I’m just, I’m lost, because I don’t know what else to do. That was all I ever wanted. And I couldn’t do it,” he shrugs.

Louis sniffles quietly, rubbing his face minutely against Harry’s stomach. He doesn’t want Harry notice that he’s crying, but Harry still sees.

“So,” he says, running his fingers through Louis hair, “forgive me for wanting to protect you from what I know can happen. It’s not that I don’t think you’re strong, or stable, or anything less than absolutely perfect; it’s just that I can’t stand the thought of you ending up in one of my cases,” he says.

Louis lets loose the tiniest of sobs, turning his face into Harry’s chest and clinging to his shirt. He’s trembling, so Harry holds him, draws him in tight and lets him breathe for as long as he needs to.

It takes Louis a few seconds to pull himself together and then he props himself up again, hovering over Harry and kissing him softly. Harry holds his waist and kisses him back, melting into it, letting Louis lead and direct the kiss however he likes.

Louis pulls away with a wet little chuckle, wiping his cheeks before his tears can drip onto Harry’s face. “We’re both pretty fucked up, aren’t we?” he says, and it should be sad, but somehow, it’s not.

“We’re perfect,” Harry hums, tucking a long piece of Louis’s fringe behind his ear.

“Eh,” Louis shrugs. “Debatable.”

“You’re a shit,” Harry giggles, drilling his fingers into Louis’s sides. Louis shrieks, arms giving out, and then he’s resting fully on top of Harry, their noses inches apart.

“I love you,” Louis says, staring straight into Harry’s eyes.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “I love you, too, Louis.”

They spend the rest of the night like that, kissing lazily and keeping all their clothes on, drifting in and out of consciousness. It’s sweet and soft and better than any full night’s sleep Harry’s ever had, even when the sun starts peeking through the blinds and they’re both still awake.

\---

Andrew’s petty theft turns into way more than that, including multiple rape cases and an armed robbery. He’s locked away for a good long time and Louis does eventually stop being upset that Harry got him arrested in the first place, since clearly he was a lot more dangerous than Louis ever thought.

They don’t live in the city anymore. They moved into Harry’s flat together around their six month anniversary, but now at their first year together, they’ve sold the flat and have moved back to Harry’s hometown, where they can both breathe a little easier.

Harry finally decided he’d had enough of the car salesman bullshit and started thinking about joining the police force, but he wanted to go small town, instead of trying to police brutal London. Louis found work in no time, teaching music at Harry’s old primary school. They’ve got a little house near the center of town with one bedroom and one bathroom and a big backyard and it’s lovely, perfect even.

They’re healing, both of them, albeit slowly. Harry still has the occasional nightmare and Louis still has trouble with intimacy sometimes on bad days, but they’re better, so much better. 

Louis is singing in the shower and Harry can hear him through the wall that separates the bathroom from the kitchen, his voice soft and lovely and somehow still piercingly clear even though it should be muffled. They’re hosting lad’s night tonight, since this is the first weekend in their new home, and Harry’s been assigned dinner duty while Louis spruces himself up.

Niall is the first to arrive, early as always. He likes to show up to things before anyone is even ready and pretend to help out, or rather, eat all the snacks so there’s none left for anyone else.

“Harry!” Niall greets him as he lets himself in the front door, doing an awkward shuffle run into the kitchen to give Harry a bear hug. “How’s married life treating ya?”

“We’re not married, Niall,” Harry chuckles, shaking his head and setting the timer on the stove, his homemade pizzas inside. 

“Well, you should be,” Niall says. “And I better be the best man when you do get married, since I set you up, remember?”

“How could I forget?” Harry hums. “You remind us every bloody day.”

“Well, it’s important,” Niall shrugs. “You two are made for each other, and I made it happen.”

Harry rolls his eyes, hoping Niall can’t see the way his stomach is filling with butterflies at just the thought. Of course he’s gonna marry Louis someday, no question about it. They’ve discussed it, and everything, and it’s gonna happen. They’re still young, maybe too new to get married anytime soon, but it’ll happen someday.

Louis joins them in the kitchen when he’s done in the bathroom and everyone else shows up shortly after, and lad’s night is as smashing a success as it always is. Louis stays cuddled up next to Harry on the sofa the whole time and, yeah, they’ve got some dirty laundry left to clean up, but this, this is good.

**Author's Note:**

> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/161281969812/suspendrs-dirty-laundry-looks-good-on-you-by), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
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> this story is now available in paperback format in a small anthology of my fics! [you can buy it here](http://www.lulu.com/shop/suspendrs/in-every-universe-an-anthology/paperback/product-23739591.html)


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